


The Language of the Track

by C130



Series: Second Chances [1]
Category: Cars (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Racing, Recovery, crash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 21:04:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11563302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C130/pseuds/C130
Summary: There are many unspoken languages in racing. There is the subtle shift of the car in front of you when they lean into a turn or the momentum of the crowd as they push you towards victory. In this story three of these unspoken languages are explored, as Sally, Mater, and McQueen try to puzzle their way through the events of Cars 3.





	1. The Language of Flags

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone...so far as fanfiction goes, I am pretty new at it. I have also been hanging out primarily in the Planes side of the Cars universe so when a plot bunny hit me hard and informed me that I was going to write this little piece I was rather surprised. That said, watching Sally's face while Lightning crashed left me with a writer's itch I needed to scratch and this three part project grew out of it. I hope that you will enjoy. Best Wishes, C-130

Growing up, Sally had never been one of those cars that obsessed about racing. She had love fashion and politics but had never felt the need to watch other vehicles push their envelope of speed. All of that had, of course, changed when a certain hotheaded, hotrod had driven into her life and left her timing belt skipping.

From that point, she realized that she loved going to the track on race days. Not to watch the race in general, but to watch him fly across the asphalt like a red shooting comet. After Lightning proposed to her Sally had thrown herself into the rules of the track with the same intensity that she had given to passing the bar. That way, even though she didn't have the skills to support her man in the pits, she would have the knowledge to help keep him safe off the track.

Unfortunately, all the knowledge in the world wasn't couldn't keep her Lightning safe on the track itself. For the most part, McQueen was in complete control on the track, but when things went wrong, Sally couldn't prevent a bubble of panic from forming in her gas tank as she watched powerless to help. Most of the time Lightning would sail through the crashes and disaster without a single scratch or dent, but everyone's luck runs out eventually.

Lightning had had a couple of close calls over the years. Usually, they just resulted in a few dings and scratches, but there had been two accidents on the track that had involved some significant body work. Then there were the days that there was a major accident on the track. The ones where the red flag flew and every prayed that all the cars involved would survive. The fireballs, crumpled wrecks, and growing pools of oil were the source of her nightmares.

When those types of crashes occurred, Sally would often convince Mack to let her ride with Lightning back home to Radiator Springs, allowing the two of them some time to nestle up, bumper to bumper. They didn't talk during these rides; they didn't need to. Sally just needed to feel Lightning sleeping next her to try to chase away the fear that someday the red flag would fly for her McQueen.

Despite Sally's fears, after every crash Lightning was always there to lead the pack every time that the green flag flew…right up until the season that he didn't. The upset caused by the next generation of racers entering the sport was wearing hard on McQueen. Despite the race car's attempts to hide the negative effects of going from a leader to fighting to keep a place in the middle of the pack, he couldn't stop Sally from seeing the tell-tell lines signs of stress in his suspension, his exhaustion when came off the track, or how fitfully he was sleeping. It was getting bad enough that Sally was incredibly relieved that they had reached the end of the season because she didn't know how much more McQueen could take.

The race began the way that all of the others did. With the drop of the green flag. Lightning was placed in the middle of the pack, and as the cars lapped around the track, it was clear that he was fighting hard not to lose ground. As one of the only old generation cars left on the track, he was discovering that skill couldn't always win against speed. Still, McQueen was holding on. He was doing so by the skin of his teeth, but he still in the race.

As lap, after lap passed, Sally found herself relaxing into the rhythm of the sport. At this point, she knew that McQueen wouldn't take the cup this year, but Sally really didn't care. Each and every lap he completed brought him closer to the off-season, and the time they got to spend together. Sally couldn't help but daydream about all the catching up they had to do. As a result, she almost missed the moment that everything went wrong.

Sally saw the flash of the track's yellow caution flag go up in her peripheral vision, but her eyes were only focused on one thing…the body of Lightning McQueen was tumbling down the track. Even as the emergency crews screamed across the tarmac, Sally knew that this crash was different. The white flag was quickly switched to white flag with a cross, indicating that medical was on the track, and through it, all McQueen didn't even so much as quiver.

Then the worst case scenario, the red flag was flown, and Sally felt as though her engine had stopped. She felt like screaming loud enough to drown out the streak of the sirens, but her throat had tightened down in shock, and she was barely able to choke out a sob. Mater had to physically keep her from driving onto the track as the emergency crew loaded the crumpled mass of the broken racecar into a helicopter for transport to the hospital.

Just as quickly as the accident had occurred, it seemed that the track was clear once again. The green flag was dropped once again, as Sally was ushered out of the pits to get an update on McQueen's condition.

Sally never saw the checker flag fly. By then she was speeding to keep up with her police escort rushing to get to her boy's side.


	2. The Language of Doors

They apparently had to jump McQueen three different times on the short flight to the hospital. The nurse that had finally come out at given them an update on the racer's condition had talked for minutes about everything that had gone wrong, but Mater couldn't tell you the half of them. He had kind of stopped tracking after they mentioned something about the sudden loss of transmission fluid.

Unable to focus on the words being said, Mater turned his attention to the doors which separated the working parts of the hospital from waiting area. Staring at them, Mater couldn't help but wish that Doc was here. Doc wouldn't let those swinging doors stop him and he would make sure that Lightning wouldn't be left alone with the harsh lights and the beeping machines. But Doc was gone and buried overlooking Willy's Butte, and not even Miss Sally had been able to talk her way past the security guard.

So, they waited. Guido and Luigi were practically bumping tires with Miss Sally as they tried to comfort the distraught sports car. Rusty and Dusty were standing guard waiting room door preventing any of the paparazzi from bothering any of the Radiator Springs Gang. While watching these interactions was a bit comforting to Mater, it also made him feel like he was kind of stuck on the sidelines. This feeling of being left on the outside was only made worse when the hospital doors finally swung open…and only Miss Sally had been let inside.

Mater and the rest of the crew would, of course, be allowed to see Lightning the following day, but the groggy race car in gray primer barely acknowledged their presence. Things got better as the concussion receded and medical staff lowered the amount of medication that Lightning was on, but even when he was discharged from the hospital and driven back to Radiator Springs he was distant.

The normally cocky racer had become a ghost of his former self. He spent his days locked up in Doc Hudson's old garage and Mater was pretty certain the only reason he didn't starve was the fact that Sally was dropping off fuel.

The only time that McQueen seemed to leave his makeshift sanctuary was in the dead of night. After the town had gone to bed, the racer would head out onto the empty roadway and drive out to Willy's Butte. Sometimes Lightning still be lapping the track when the first slivers of dawn formed in the east, but he was always back in the garage by the time the sun crosses the horizon.

Mater knew all of this because after he had watched McQueen head out to the track a few times, he had asked his friend if he could come along…which had led to Mater getting a garage door slammed in his face. He didn't want to admit just how much that hurt and he just couldn't figure out why his best friend didn't want to hang out with him anymore. That said, Mater couldn't bare that thought that Buddy might get hurt out in the desert, in the middle of the night, with no one out there to help him. So, most nights he would find himself parked at one of the track's overlooks with his headlights off.

In short, it had been four long months, and the garage door was still firmly shut. Mater had tried every trick he could think of to get McQueen to open up, but he was to the point of giving up forcing his way in. All he could do know was hope Miss Sally could find a way to open the door.


	3. The Language of the Track

To say that McQueen loved dirt would be an understatement. He loved the feeling of his tires when they dug into the grit and the way the dust billowed behind him as he drifted across hard packed soil. But most of all he loved the fact that dirt had given him a second chance to do the thing that he loved most. Because while he didn't have the speed the keep up with the next generation of racers on the concrete and asphalt speedways, dirt was the racer's great equalizer.

In the year since he had formally retired from the top tier of asphalt round-track racing, McQueen had had the opportunity to fly across all sorts of tracks. He had fought to keep traction on grass and dug into the sand. Spun out on while ice racing and careened across a board track. He had even had an opportunity to try to clock his best speed gunning his engine across the Bonneville Salt Flats. Somewhere along the way, McQueen discovered that while exhibition races may lack extreme speeds were challenging to satisfy his itch for competition.

The fact that he was still technically racing didn't change the fact there was another vehicle wearing the Rusteze Red and the #95 driving around the big fast tracks, which was always kind of unnerving for McQueen. He had to keep himself from double talking every time caught the new Rusteze car in the corner of his eye. It didn't matter that Carlos was a great guy, it was just weird to see someone else in your paint…not that it was technically his paint anymore. Tex had let his newest exhibition racer stay in his Hudson Tribute paint. Midnight Blue with the Fabulous Lightning McQueen picked out in white and gold.

When McQueen wasn't representing Rusteze in the rapidly growing dirt track competition, Tex had also let McQueen continue to coach Cruz. The pair of them had allowed team Dinoco to dominate winner's podium. Even in practice, the younger racer had long outpaced him on the asphalt straight away which did tweak McQueen's pride a bit…though his ruffled muffler was soothed by the fact that when it came skill challenges he could still leave Cruz in the dust.

In many ways, it was the fact that skill could still win against speed that had made McQueen the elder statesman of the racing world. While vehicles no longer expected him to win every race, Lightning had an uncanny ability to read the track and to remain in complete control when a lesser car would already be in the tulips. And as long as McQueen could still push the envelope of racing skill, he wasn't going to be ready to hang up his Lightyears.

So every morning as the sun came up across the desert, Lightning would find himself once again hitting the track. Once again digging his tires into the dirt and pushing his engine to its absolute limit. After all, the Japanese had invented something called drift racing, and Piston Cup champion thinks he would like to give it a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed this story. While I was doing the researcher for this piece it was really fascinating to learn that most cars max out at 160 miles an hour on a dirt track because of the difficulty of the driving surface. After watching McQueen almost hit 200 miles an hour in the movie I couldn't help but think that Lightning had clearly missed his calling when he started racing on asphalt and getting pushed out of that circuit basically means that he has a chance for an amazing second career. Thank you again for reading this story and I hope that you will join me on future adventures.


End file.
